


I Like Sprot

by Ims0s0rry



Category: Jane the Virgin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Olympics, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 22:06:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20396899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ims0s0rry/pseuds/Ims0s0rry
Summary: Lesbians playing sports, what more do you want from me?For Roisa Week 2019 Day 1: Alternate Anything





	I Like Sprot

**Author's Note:**

> You, squinting: Did you write this just so you could imagine Yara in a bikini?
> 
> Me: No... (Yeah, you got me.)
> 
> But here I am, ready for Roisa Week and only a month late! Also I'm so bad at writing sports I never want to do this again god.

The opening ceremony is nothing like Rose thinks it’ll be. Instead of an orderly procession, there’s yelling and last minute shuffling and shoving and then everyone walks out smiling and waving like this was the plan the whole time.

Switzerland’s own delegation this year is relatively small at just under a hundred in comparison to the bigger competitors, like the US. The Swiss tend to do better at the Winter Olympics.

And then there’s waiting. A lot of waiting while the dancers of their host country drag their feet in some semblance of dancing and grin through it for the next few hours.

Rose exhales when the flame is lit. Her stepmother/coach’s words echo in her head: _ Do not let me or your country down. _

As everyone is leaving the stadium, Rose catches sight of a group of American athletes. She isn’t sure what sport they play. She gets a glimpse of a leggy blonde with a sour expression next to a small tan woman who’s saying something and gesturing animatedly with her hands to the rest of the team.

…

For all of the secrecy and security, the Olympic Village literally just looks like a dorm. Roommates are assigned by sport and country. Rose is rooming with a Swiss diver.

She’s heading back to her room after a shower, when she literally runs into another woman as she’s towel-drying her hair. They both fall backwards. Rose rubs her nose with a grimace while the woman massages her forehead.

“Sorry about that,” the woman says. “I guess I wasn’t looking paying attention to where I was going.”

_ American _, Rose realizes.

When she looks up, Rose realizes two things at once. Firstly, that it’s the same woman she saw gesticulating at the opening ceremony. And secondly, that she stinks of sex.

“No, I should’ve been looking where I was going too.” Rose gets up and hauls the woman to her feet as well. “Where are you heading?”

The woman points to the door two doors down from Rose’s room. “There.”

“No kidding? We’re neighbors, kinda. I’m Rose Merian.”

“Luisa Alver. Nice to meet you.”

They shake hands.

“So what are you competing in?” Luisa asks.

“Modern pentathlon.”

“Is that like a track and field event?”

“That’s the other pentathlon. I do a combination of swimming, running, fencing, shooting, and riding.”

“Whoa, that sounds really intense! I wonder why I’ve never heard of it before.”

Rose shrugs. “It’s not an event that’s heavily covered, like racewalking.”

Luisa laughs. “I’d say it’s a lot more interesting than racewalking. So when’s your event?”

“Tomorrow, actually. I’ve got to be at the arena by six for fencing,” Rose says, running her suddenly damp palms down her thighs.

“I don’t have anything scheduled until day eight. I’ll be there!”

“Oh, you don’t have to if you don’t want to…” But Rose trails off when Luisa hands her phone over.

“Give me your number.”

Rose wordlessly enters her number into Luisa’s phone. She’s a little dazed that anyone besides her coach would come see her compete at all. And then she’s completely struck dumb when Luisa leans up on her tiptoes to give her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks! I need to take a shower before bed, but I’ll see you tomorrow! It was nice meeting you, Rose!”

It isn’t until Luisa’s door slams that Rose shakes herself out of her stupor. “Yeah...you too.”

The nerves don’t hit her until she enters her own room. She has no idea where her roommate is. And there’s only one way Rose knows how to deal with nerves. She suddenly can’t stand to be alone. She changes into a red dress she knows highlights her curves before she heads downstairs.

There’s one thing you might not know about the Olympic Village. So take the world’s most physically fit people between their 20s to 40s who are reasonably attractive and stick them in very close quarters for two weeks. What do you think is gonna happen? Exactly. She’s sure to have her pick of the women’s soccer team, at least. And with Bumble and Tinder, finding someone here has never been easier. She’s heard that the Olympics committee hands out thousands of condoms every year and run out every single time.

It’s only a half hour later when she has a Canadian archer backed against her door as she struggles to unlock her room. The leggy blonde from the opening ceremony walks by, but only gives Rose a raised eyebrow before she continues on her way. Rose barely remembers to put a sock on the door.

Hours later, as Rose pretends to be asleep and her guest sneaks out, she can feel her heart return to its resting heart rate. She doesn’t feel ready for tomorrow, not by a long shot, but everything about the last dozen years has been leading up to this moment. She’s ready just to get it over with. It’s her last thought as sleep overtakes her.

…

She realizes she had lied to herself when she gets to the arena the next morning. The bagel and eggs she had while running on the way over is threatening to make a reappearance. She needs a minimum of another dozen years of training before she’s ready for this.

The worst part is the waiting. There’s not a ton of pentathletes but the fencing portion is round robin, so everyone has to face off against each other at least once. It’s a lot of matches.

Her coach Elena sits next to her while they wait for her name to be called, one hand on her knee. It’s more to stop her from shaking her leg than it is for comfort. She’ll lean over every once in a while to hiss last minute tips to Rose, things like “she prefers to strike on the right. Watch for that” or “remember to watch for headshots. Your opponents always get you there,” like any of it will help now.

Rose perks up when she sees Luisa wave to her. She looks adorable, her hair up in a messy bun and a coffee cup on her other hand.

When it’s her turn, the noise of the crowd fades as she steps up to the ring.

“En garde!” the referee calls and suddenly the panic takes a backseat as years of training take over. She can only hear her breathing, the sound of her rapid footwork on the mats, the swish of her épée.

Fencing takes three hours but Rose gets a decent placement. Elena isn’t happy with it but then again, she’s never happy with Rose’s scores.

Everyone migrates over to the aquatic center for the 200m swimming event. Rose takes a moment after squeezing herself into her kneeskin to sit on the bench and breathe, partly because the suit is so tight it’s a bit of an ordeal but also to psych herself up a bit. Swimming is by far her weakest event. At least it’s only three minute heats this time instead of having to face off against everyone again.

She climbs onto the starting block. She readies herself by crouching, coiling her muscles. When she hears the signal, she throws herself forward, cutting through the water like a knife.

It seems like it’s over in a blink of an eye.

When she finishes, she lifts her goggles and squints at the scoreboard. Her time isn’t what she’s hoping for, but as long as she does well in the next two events, she’ll be able to eke out a place in the top half, at least.

All the pentathletes strip out of their swimsuits and don their riding gear. There’s a bit of an intermission as everyone’s herded to the next event.

“Rose, hey!”

Rose looks up, halfway through wringing what’s left of shower water out of her hair. “Hi Luisa!” she says, causing the helmet strap to fall out of her mouth.

Luisa picks it up for her.

“Thanks. I’m so touched you actually showed up!”

“I said I would, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know,” Rose says, shrugging, “I figured you had practice or something better to do.”

“Better than seeing you in jodhpurs?” Luisa asks, innocently all things considered but with enough of a twinkle in her eye to be taken as flirting.

Rose doesn’t know what to make of it, so she stutters through half-assed pleasantries until there’s an announcement for all athletes to report to the stables.

“Good luck!” Luisa says.

“Kasdfk?” Rose replies before she runs off to the stables.

Usually horses and riders are a team, forged through years of training together, but not in the pentathlon. Each athlete is assigned a horse through a draw and they have twenty minutes to bond and convince the horse to jump obstacles for them.

Rose has always had good experiences with horses. Her background was in riding originally before her stepmother got her into the other disciplines.

She’s matched with a horse named Blueberry. He seems indifferent to her at first but within five minutes, she has him eating his namesake out of her palm. It’s just enough time to adjust his equipment accordingly and take him through a few test jumps.

When they’re called, she and Blueberry make the course look like the easiest thing in the world, only knocking down one bar.

Rose lets out a breath, pumping her fist when they finish. Despite Blueberry’s warm reception, there was still a big chance he would refuse a jump. Obviously, that would be disastrous for anyone’s score.

“Now that’s what I was expecting,” Elena tells her when she dismounts, which is the closest to “well done” she’s going to get.

Still, Rose can’t stop smiling. Only the combined event left now, and if there’s one thing Rose excels at, it’s running and shooting.

Rose is sitting comfortably at fifteenth place right now, but she could jump all the way to tenth place if she gets a perfect score. She knows it’s not what Elena was hoping for, but she thinks it’s pretty good for her first Olympics.

So the running used to be a four kilometer race and then the shooting was separate, but now the committee has combined it into something called a laser run, which sounds much more fun than what it actually is. There’s a shooting range at the end, where the athletes will shoot five targets in fifty seconds with a laser pistol before running an 800 m lap. After every lap, they’ll have to shoot five more targets until they’ve run the full 3200 m.

Rose would rather have the running and the shooting in a more cohesive manner, like maybe if there were clay discs being thrown above to be shot while they were running, but she’ll have to play by the rules if she wants to win here.

When the gun goes off, she starts running. Her most common mistake is expending too much effort in the beginning and then completely running out of gas at the end. It’s especially common when she’s nervous, so she tries to keep herself on pace and her breathing even.

She is deadly calm when it comes to shooting though. There’s something so natural about the fit of the gun in her hand, even if it is just a laser simulated pistol. She misses the actual kick of the recoil, but even then, she hits all her targets perfectly.

At the last 100 m, she breaks into a sprint, passing three other women who look like they’re about to pass out.

In the end, she gets twelfth place.

She sags in the middle of the track when she’s done, never so relieved in her life to finish before. There are tears and laughter and hugs all around but she’s too tired to join in. Elena gives her a brief hug that she can barely return before she’s gone, probably to pack her things and return to Switzerland.

In the end, she drags herself to the dorm to shower and sleep.

It feels like she’s fifty pounds lighter when she wakes up. Now that she’s done competing, she’s curious to see the famed party scene of the Olympics.

When she enters the main lounge though, Luisa spots her.

“Rose! I didn’t get a chance to catch you before you left. Twelfth place is amazing! Congratulations!”

“Thanks! I’m sorry I didn’t stick around. I was so tired.”

Luisa waves a hand. “Don’t worry. I totally understand. We’re playing giant Jenga, do you wanna play?”

Rose blinks. “I guess so. Why not?”

Halfway through a game, Rose’s phone buzzes. The notification says, “You’ve matched with Luisa Alver!”

When she looks up and catches Luisa’s eye, she winks at Rose.

Feeling bold, Rose abandons the game and whispers, “Do you wanna get out of here?”

And Luisa grins and says, “I thought you’d never ask.”

…

Rose is not disappointed by the party scene. Over the next few days, she goes to bed with multiple different women. She still puts a sock on the door but she literally hasn’t seen her roommate since she got here, so it’s like having a single room.

Despite having a one-night stand, she and Luisa still have friendly totally not-awkward chats whenever they run into each other in the hallway.

“You said you’re going to be competing tomorrow right?” Rose says one night.

“Yeah,” Luisa says, running a hand through her mussed hair. “I can’t believe you remembered.”

Rose laughs. “Why wouldn’t I? I don’t have anything else to worry about.”

She sighs. “Lucky.”

“Are you nervous?”

Luisa shrugs. “A little. I mean, it’s the Olympics, right? But it’s not my first. I know what to expect.”

“Where are you going to be tomorrow? I wanna come see you play.”

“Oh, it’s just the preliminary round. It’s not that important.”

“Luisa, you came to support me. The least I can do is return the favor.”

Luisa smirks. “I’d say you definitely paid me back in full a few nights ago.”

Rose rolls her eyes. “Still.”

“The stadium. Competition starts at eight sharp.”

“Sounds like a plan. Good luck.”

Luisa gives her a fond smile. “See you tomorrow then. Good night, Rose.”

“Good night.”

…

It isn’t until Rose is standing in front of the stadium doors that it hits her. She never asked Luisa what sport she plays. She assumed it was something like golf or judo.

The stadium’s floor is covered in sand. The sign in the entryway stares back at her, unblinking. It says WOMEN’S BEACH VOLLEYBALL — PRELIMINARIES.

Luisa plays beach volleyball.

You’d think that seeing her naked would rid Rose of any lingering anxiety but she’s a sweaty mess by the time she finds her seat. The weather is even cooperating. It’s just on this side of cool with reports to warm up comfortably by noon.

She spends twenty minutes talking herself down, trying to convince herself that she can be perfectly rational about a women’s sport that does not need to be sexualized any more than it already has been.

Of course, the instant the first match begins, Rose loses any semblance of composure as her lesbian brain takes over. The first point is won by a vicious spike and Rose actually squeaks out loud. Luckily, the cheering Brazilians drown her out.

She loses track of time and teams and matches. Everyone has a grace and self-assuredness that translates into absolutely brutal attacks. The companionable ass smacking is honestly just a bonus. It’s all so attractive, Rose can’t handle it.

And that’s before she sees Luisa.

“Alver/Andel of the US vs Wang/Yue of China!” the announcer says.

It turns out the leggy blonde is her partner. She sees their coach, an older Latina, giving them a last minute pep talk.

Rose gets the feeling during the whole match that everything is happening in slow-motion and yet as much as she focuses on each dive, each volley, each bead of sweat running down the line of Luisa’s spine, she knows that there’s no way that she’ll be able to commit each moment fully to memory.

Alver/Andel win 2-1 against Wang/Yue, and then Rose passes out from heat stroke.

...

That evening, Rose musters up the courage to knock on Luisa’s door. The blonde, in a state of undress, answers. “Yes?”

“Oh, sorry for interrupting. Is Luisa here?”

“Who is it?” a voice calls from inside.

Rose spots a dark-haired woman splayed out on the bed, also in a state of undress.

“One of Luisa’s flings,” the blonde answers.

When the woman starts to sit up and reach for her clothes, the blonde says, “Don’t get up, JR. This will only take a second. I’ll be right there.”

Rose feels her face heat up. “Actually, maybe I’ll just…”

“No, it’s fine. Which one are you? Kira? Ita? Veronika? Nou? Svet—?”

“Rose. I’m Rose.”

“Ah yes, I’ve heard of you. I’m Petra. Petra Andel.”

Rose shakes her hand, a little bemused.

“So Luisa?”

“Straight to the point. I like that about you. Well, she’s not here. I’d try the local lesbian bar. Just three blocks down, take a right. You can’t miss it.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Oh, and you two did really well today,” Rose finishes lamely.

Petra gives her a little smirk like she knows exactly what kind of gay panic she was reduced to. “Thanks. If that’s all?”

“Yeah. Sorry again. Have fun.”

Petra grins. “I plan on it.”

The lesbian bar _ is _ very easy to find. Rose is surprised she never thought to look for it. She walks in and as if Luisa was waiting for her, she turns around and meets her eyes.

Rose slides into the seat next to her. And like an idiot, the first thing that she says is, “Hi. Can I buy you a drink?” like some kind of frat boy and not someone who she’s already made a connection with.

But Luisa just smiles and holds up her drink. “Thirty-four days sober, actually.”

“Oh. In that case, how about some sex on the beach?” Rose asks with a hint of a smirk.

“Hypothetically I’d be all for it, but I’ve done it before and let me tell you, you get sand in places you didn’t even know sand could get.”

“I have an idea…”

Anyway, that’s the story of how Rose and Luisa get caught having sex in the Olympic pool complex.

But as they’re huddled in towels in a musty old office, being told off by a supremely irate athletic director, Rose looks over to see Luisa trying to hold in her laughter and thinks that this was totally worth it.


End file.
